


close calls

by fixwithgold



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Destiny, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Says "Hmm", Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Punching, Threats of Violence, Toxic Masculinity, Whumptober 2020, jaskier is a fuckboy, since now, since when do i write witcher fic, specifically threats of murder and/or unpleasant sword occurences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26745739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fixwithgold/pseuds/fixwithgold
Summary: Whumptober Day 3Prompt: My Way or the HighwayJaskier gets himself in trouble, as usual.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947046
Kudos: 7





	close calls

Jaskier reeled against the sudden pain that bloomed outwards from where the lord's fist had connected with his nose. He blinked reflex tears out of his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but a second punch, this time to his jaw, stopped him in his tracks. The back of his head slammed against the overgrown wall of the tavern and the lord pinned him there with a sword to his throat and the collar of his tunic twisted in his fist. 

"Just thought you'd cozy up with my wife?" he snarled, ale-tinged breath drifting into Jaskier's face. "Fucking bard! No woman wants a jester who prances around in silks."

Jaskier grinned, unable to resist.

"I've never found that to be true, but I suppose there's a first time for everything!" 

The lord's eyes darkened and he drove the fist that was holding Jaskier's collar into his windpipe. Jaskier choked and grabbed at his throat, trying to pry away the offending arm, but the lord kicked at his legs, dropping him to his knees on the ground. 

"Okay, okay! I assure you I had no ill intentions towards you or your lady, I was just making polite conversation between songs. She's a fascinating woman, truly, though not really my type. We had a lovely talk about the local cuisine and I had every intention of finishing my beer, finishing my songs, and being on my way! So if you'll just let me up--" Jaskier said, his words spilling out faster and faster until his accuser shut him up with a kick to the gut. 

"Save it, bard, before I crush your throat," the lord snapped. He snatched up Jaskier's left hand with his own as he gasped for air, pinning it to the wall and pointing his sword at it. "Or I could cut off your fingers and spare the rest of the country your godawful music. Or better yet..."

The sword moved to point down at Jaskier's...leg. He hoped.

"Why don't I just remove the source of the problem?"

Jaskier tried to squirm away from the sword that was getting unnervingly close, but the lord let go of his hand in favor of grabbing him by the hair. 

"Hm," someone said. Jaskier's face lit up.

"Geralt!"

Geralt was leaning against an adjacent building, watching the argument with his arms crossed. 

"Stay out of this, Witcher," the lord snarled. Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"I hardly think castration is a fair price to pay for talking to the wrong woman," he said. "A few good bruises, maybe. A sprained ankle at most."

"You dare tell me how to conduct myself, mutant?"

Geralt shrugged, the picture of disinterest.

"Offering my honest opinion. The bard's not worth your time. Beat him if you must, and be done with it."

Jaskier frowned and started to protest, but Geralt silenced him with a pointed glare. 

"I appreciate the _wisdom_ ," the lord said, turning back to Jaskier, "but I think I'd rather make sure he doesn't try to wile his way into my bedchambers again."

Geralt cocked his head in apparent confusion.

"Your bedchambers? I thought his intentions were with your wife, not you."

The lord was silent for a moment. Jaskier had to bite his tongue to hold back a laugh; he could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he puzzled out that statement. His face contorted and flushed with anger when he finally figured it out.

"You insolent, disgusting-- I should kill you for that!"

"You can try."

The lord apparently thought better of the notion and moved his sword back up to Jaskier's neck, this time holding it only a hair's width away from his skin.

"Then I'll just kill him!"

"You can try," Geralt said again. Whereas the first time had been dismissive, this time he said it with an undercurrent of a serious threat, and the lord heard it just as well as Jaskier did. He faltered, glancing back and forth between Geralt and Jaskier, before releasing his grip on Jaskier's hair and taking a few steps back, scowling. 

"You don't-- I-- burn in hell!" he yelled, then turned on his heel and walked away, a little faster than someone would typically walk.

Jaskier got up, dusted himself off, and ran his fingers through his hair to brush it back into place. Geralt rolled his eyes at the display.

"He's not worth your time; beat him and leave?" Jaskier asked with an indignant huff. "And I thought we were friends, Geralt!"

"He wasn't going to beat you. He was going to cut off your dick, or give up and leave."

"I was only _talking_ to that woman! Bit of an overreaction!"

"And you had no intentions with her."

"Ahm, anyway. You know, you always seem to show up at exactly the right time to scare off some barbarian. Is that a spooky Witcher power, or just coincidence?"

"Hm." 

"Destiny?"

Geralt ignored him.

"Geralt? My lute's still in the tavern." 


End file.
